Forever Yours
by Topsy Krett Scheisse
Summary: Every girl wants to be loved. Even the forgotten ones. This story is about a forgotten character in the Twilight Saga. This is Lizzie's Story. Rated M for future lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**** Hey everyone! If you're wondering why I'm posting this story again, it's because I didn't like the first version. This is the REMIX!! If you don't feel like reading this story a second time (even if this is the new and improved version) then feel free to remove me from your alerts list. If this is your first time reading it, or if you're just plain old awesome and you're reading it AGAIN, please leave me a little review! I'd love to know if I'm heading in the right direction. Also, if you have any tips whatsoever, please share them with me! I'll be posting again if I get enough reviews, so please help me out here. **

**Just to warn you—my first version was rated T. This one is going to be rated M eventually so I'll just start out by rating it M. There will be some language and lemons later on, but be patient! This isn't a dirty story. This is just a story of an ordinary girl who falls in love (which is something we all hope to do someday) so bear with me. **

**Disclaimer:**** I don't claim to own anything associated with the Twilight Saga. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just love her characters, that's all.**

**CHAPTER ONE**** - Yeah, yeah…**

**Lizzie POV**

"_And that's all right you see  
Experience has made me rich_

_And now they're after me, cause everybody's_

_Living in a material world"_

_--Madonna, Material Girl_

I sighed. Another day of school… when will it ever end? I mean, when you graduate, you go to college and when you graduate from college, all you do for the rest of your life is work to earn money and then spend it on material things you didn't even really need. Most of the time you can't even pay for the crap you buy, and that's where the CREDIT CARD comes in. Credit cards are just another sick way of procrastinating; 'yeah, yeah. I know it costs a thousand bucks, but I'll just pay it off tomorrow. Or the next day. Or never.'…

When did the world come to this? All people think about these days is sex, money, and more money, and some more sex. Seriously, people suck. I wish that I could get myself a time machine and transport myself back to the time where people lived off the land and were _happy_. Happiness is such a rare thing to come by in this day in age. Life is a rat race. Everyone wants to get to the cheese first, and they bite each other to death before they come anywhere close. I'm not aiming for the cheese. I'm aiming for the sky. I'm aiming for the sun and the moon and everything in between.

That's why I decided that I'm taking off as soon as I'm done with high school. I don't care what my parents think of me. I'm going to start a garage. Hah. I bet that surprised you? Well, I'm not exactly one of the average materialistic teenage valley girls that dominate your high school, as you may have noticed. I'm just me and that's all I'll ever be. I won't change myself for anything or anyone. Ever.

Okay, sorry about that. I know my exterior seems kind of die-hard but I'm a nice person. I think. Except for my phobia for materialism. That's kind of scary, I admit it. But think look around you; do you really need that TV and that bracelet and that make-up? Do you? Could you survive without all that stuff? I know I could. I know you probably can't. But that's life. People just don't ever get it. Some say that 'life is a lesson. You'll learn it when you're through.' I disagree. You only learn the lesson if you keep your heart and your mind open to the world. Let it in and you'll see. The next time you pass by that old rotting tree-stump on the end of your driveway, think about it. Look at all those little insects burrowing their way into the wood. Do they need iPods or cars or makeup? No, they don't. All they need is their old rotting wood, and they're not unhappy. They're probably happier than you are right now.

I swung my legs out of bed. The cold morning air hit me and I gasped. I always slept with the window open so that I can let the roaring of the cars in the street sing me to sleep, but it froze last night. I brushed the windowsill with my fingertip, and I felt the crackle of the thin glazing of ice that scraped away from the shiny white layer of paint. It melted immediately and I licked the glistening droplet of water from my finger before it fell off. It tasted crisp and cool and it reminded me of the mountains during spring time. The ice would melt and rush down the rivers into the lush green forests and the meadows full of wildflowers, waiting for the first drop of life-giving water so that they could burst into life and colour the world.

I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror that covered the wall next to my bed. My eyes were still squeezed half-shut and my head was covered in a shaggy mess of hair. Running my fingers through my red-gold hair, I separated the messy curls that covered my head in the mane of sleep into smooth waves which I gently fluffed around my face. Not sparing my appearance another glance, I grabbed a pair of comfortable tan cargo-pants and a plain black tee-shirt. I dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a familiar foul stench slammed into my olfactory glands. Oh God, dad's been drinking again. I don't know why he does it! Whenever he takes so much as a sip of beer, he chucks it out a few hours later and then passes out. He does it far too often, too… Once or twice a week I was met by this smell. It meant that I had to do everything by myself for the whole day. Of course I couldn't depend on my mum to help me. She's a schizophrenic that's been locked away in a mental facility. I get to see her once every few months. If I'm lucky, she'll remember my name. She never remembers my baby sister's name though. She was taken away from her right after she was born. My mother was the reason why my dad was a drunkard. I was mostly left to fend for myself and my sister.

Ah, there it was; the ominous dark stain of vomit on the carpet. I sighed as I sprayed some carpet cleaner onto it and scrubbed it with a towel. Not that it did much good, the whole house smelled of it now because of the many times this had happened over the last few years. Once, two years ago, I tried stealing my dad's entire alcohol collection and emptying them down the sink. It wasn't pretty. The bruises didn't fade for a month and my classmates laughed and bullied me for it. That's when something snapped inside me. I went mad and ended up giving a couple of kids bloody noses. I got suspended for that, but I don't care. It was worth it. Who laughs at someone who has been beaten? What kind of people were they anyway?

That wasn't the first time I've been bullied, either. I had to deal with their constant ragging about what I looked like. My legs were too long, I was too skinny, my hair was the wrong colour, my breasts were too small… I could go on, but I don't feel like it. I don't feel like much these days. All that keeps me from going absolutely crazy is swimming. I love to swim. It seems like the only way I can leave this world for a few hours. When I swim, my body takes over my mind and I don't have to think. Thinking is a painful thing to do, and I just happen to be one of those people that think too much.

I sighed again as I poured myself a bowl of cereal and chewed pensively while I stared out of the small window onto the bleak streets of a rainy day in Seattle. I was surrounded with buildings every freaking day. It didn't do much to help my present cynical mood. Don't worry. I'm not always like this. I guess it's just that time of the month again.

I twisted my body at the waist and reached behind me to scoop my school books off the counter while I balanced my cereal bowl in the other hand. Dumping the books into my backpack, I scarfed down the rest of the soggy cereal and got up to wake Natalie up. Natalie is my little sister, if I didn't already tell you that. She's the light of my life right now. I don't know what I would do without her.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, I slipped into the little blue room that was barely bigger than a closet. Actually, it _was_ a closet before my mother had it remodelled into a nursery while she was pregnant with Natalie. Natalie was sleeping in the little crib standing in the corner. She looked so peaceful. Her pudgy fists were balled up but there was a sweet little smile playing on her lips that reminded me so much of my mother. She used to look just like that when she was asleep. I blinked back a tear and leaned over Natalie's bed. The soft, yeasty smell of sleep surrounded her and I was tempted to just skip school today just to watch her sleep. I couldn't, though. Those smug guys with the hats will come around again and ask me why I wasn't in school. Again.

My arms gently lifted Natalie out of her bed and she blinked sleepily at me before settling into my shoulder and falling asleep again. My hand rubbed her back as I went back into the kitchen and shouldered my backpack. I swaddled myself in my warm winter clothing and tucked a soft blanket around Natalie to keep the chill out. Then, I tramped to the door and slipped on my huge rubber boots. It was going to be a cold day today.

I opened the door and the freezing cold air blasted into me. I could instantly feel my fingers getting numb and my nose turning red. Hugging Natalie closer and hunching my shoulders, I slammed the door behind me and knocked on the one next door. It opened promptly and a gust of warm air counteracted the cold and made me defrost a little. An old lady who smelled of soap was standing in front of me with a huge smile on her face. Her name was Mrs. Jackson and she was the lady that looked after practically everyone's children for them while they were away at work. Or, in my case, school.

"Oh hello my dearest girls!" she cried happily and took Natalie from me. "I'll take good care of her, Lizette!"

I smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Jackson. I'll see you this afternoon."

Mrs. Jackson nodded and beamed at me before closing the door in my face. I sighed. I always felt so guilty when I had to leave Natalie with old Mrs. Jackson. If I didn't have to go to school, I could just take care of her myself.

***

I arrived at school in the usual flurry of books, bags and a crowd of loud squirming bodies. I made my way to my locker which was painted an awful shade of orange. The locker next to me belonged to my best and only friend, Martin. Martin was an emo by name, but not by nature. He said that the reason he dressed that way was to keep people away from him. When I asked him why, he just shrugged and said, 'just because not everyone in this world is as nice as you are,' winking slyly at me over his tray of cafeteria mush. People had always assumed that we were dating. No matter how much we told them that we were just friends, they never believed us. Soon, we were known as the 'nemos' which was our high school slang for 'lost emo/nerds'. Like the little fishy. Ha. Ha. Not.

I didn't really care what people thought of me. They were all losers anyway. All the girls looked the same with their straightened and bleached blonde hair, cakey black mascara, neon pink fingernails, and pink bubble gum which seemed perpetually present in their glossy mouths. Martin was the only friend I needed. He was like a force of nature when you really got to know him well enough to see past the black hair and skinny jeans. He could always make me laugh when I had a bad day and he could always comfort me when I ran to his apartment, crying my eyes out about one thing or another. We tried dating once, just for the sake of trying it out. It didn't feel any different than when we were just friends, so we eventually forgot about it and the status dissolved between us as it had never existed. Well, it did for me, at least. I wasn't so sure about Martin, but I never asked. It didn't seem like something he wanted to talk about.

I smiled widely when I felt a pair of hand muss up my hair from behind me. "MARTIN!" I squealed loudly, "don't mess up my hair!"

Martin chuckled and tried to pat it down again with big clumsy hands. "Sorry, sorry. Sheesh Liz, you treat that hair as if it was made of pure gold or something." He snorted.

"Yeah, well, it's the only thing that's even remotely pretty about me so I'd like to preserve it, thanks." I rolled my eyes at him and entered the combination to unlock his locker so he could put his backpack away.

"Humph, you're not ugly," he retorted with a grunt as he shoved in his backpack, "You're just not a supermodel, that's all."

"Whatever. What's our first class?"

He grinned widely. "Sports, that's what!"

I smiled back at him. Martin and I loved sports of any kind and he was the only person that would even come anywhere close to beating me in anything so we were always paired up as partners in class. "Awesome," I said, grabbing my sports clothes and tying my hair up in a messy ponytail.

Martin put his arm around my shoulders and we made our way through the milling students toward the Gym. As we entered, Coach McKenzie called over to me to give the class a demonstration on the proper techniques of warm-up stretching. I left Martin's side and joined the teacher to guide the class through a series of movements to get their muscles ready for the arduous training that was in store for us.

Coach McKenzie was a large man. As in large in three dimensions; he was tall, fat, and wide all at the same time. It surprised me how he ever became a sport teacher in the first place. His eyes were always roving over one body or another. I could never really tell if his glances were perverted or professional, but I always felt uncomfortable around him whenever he did this. This wasn't the first time. His eyes lingered on my pitiful breasts as I stood on my toes and stretched towards the ceiling. As soon as his eyes met mine, he turned away and started looking at the blonde girls who were giggling and jumping around stupidly. What a disgusting man.

We finished our exercises and started jogging around the gym. Martin joined me and we enthusiastically started our little competition of who could outrun the other. I won, to Martin's exaggerated disappointment. He pushed out his bottom lip at me as I collapsed on the floor, panting. "You know, I'm going to get you back for this…" he grumbled at me.

I laughed, "As long as you don't put sour cream in my yoghurt again, I'm fine."

"Actually…"

"Oh god, not again!" I groaned, remembering how disgusting it had tasted.

He waggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. "Nah, just pulling your leg. Say, do you wanna meet me at the park this weekend? We can go and do some 'artwork' if you like."

'Artwork' was our little code word for graffiti. Martin and I had vandalized almost every square centimetre of the side a random apartment complex and our masterpiece was almost finished. It was a painting showing a rather bloody fight between a huge hairy werewolf and an emo-looking Dracula who looked a lot like Martin. The wolf was my idea. Wolves had always been my favourite animal and I was fascinated by the legends behind them. I had posters of wolves plastered all over the walls in my bedroom.

"Yeah, sounds great!" I called back as McKenzie blew his whistle, signalling the start of a basketball game.

I was terrible at basketball. It was probably the only sport that I didn't excel at. I never actually really got the point of ball games, because all you do is chase a piece of leather around a field. Or, in this case, a piece of rubber around a court.

The class charged like a pack of angry bulls from one end of the gym to the other. I kept to the edges of the crowd and nervously bounced on my toes. I could never catch the ball, and everyone knew that. That didn't mean that they wouldn't be disappointed if I dropped the ball when my chance came.

The class was finally over and I happily skipped to the showers, still on a high from the endorphins that were pumping through my veins. The shower was lovely and cool and I exhaled deeply as the cool water dripped over my scalp and ran down my shoulders, relaxing every muscle in my body. I soaped myself and rinsed myself off. I kept the water running for a little while, watching the little rivulets travelling over my hips and down my thighs. My hips were starting to widen a little, and the rest of me was definitely filling out a little. My body didn't look as disproportionate to my limbs anymore, and I was thankful for that. Maybe the bullying will stop after everyone's realized the changes that were taking place.

I shut off the water and wrung out my hair with a fluffy white towel. After drying myself completely, I reached into my bag and pulled out a plain pleated red skirt and a white singlet. I stepped outside after pulling them all and joined the giggling girls at the sinks where everyone was reapplying their cake-faces and mascara. I completely ignored them and separated my hair into bunches before finger combing them and pulling them into a braid at the base of my neck.

Lunch was just like it always was. Martin and I loaded up our trays with disgusting cafeteria slop and went to sit at our own little table. "So," Martin said, "how's your dad doing?"

I grimaced. "Not good. He threw up all over the carpet again last night."

"Oh." was all that Martin said in reply. He didn't need to say more. His face expressed the disapproval he felt toward my father and the pity he felt on my behalf.

I finished picking through the unidentifiable lumps of 'food' on my plate without eating anything and I got up to empty my tray. Martin got up too and jogged a few steps to catch up with my long strides. I didn't like talking about my parents.

Without a word, Martin and I left the cafeteria and went outside into the school yard where the football team was having a meeting. Martin looked wistfully at them and then turned away, following me to our usual little spot under the trees where we spent every lunch break. Martin had tried out for the football team almost every year, and each time they didn't let him join. Not because he wasn't any good, but because the team captain, Harvy Graeme, didn't want a 'nemo' messing up his team's reputation. People suck.

We engaged each other in quiet conversation until the bell rang and we went back inside to our next class. The rest of the day progressed in the same fashion and I whooped when the bell finally rang, signalling the end of the day and the beginning of the weekend.

"Movie night tonight?" Martin asked me. Friday movie night was our long-time tradition.

"Yeah, sure I'll be over at seven! See ya!" I chirped and hugged him around the waist. He patted my shoulder affectionately and removed his bag from his locker.

"Seven." He agreed, grinning at me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**** Wow, these chapters are really long. And I'm really not feeling like doing any work for this story if I don't get enough reviews. I mean, 2 reviews? Is that all you can manage? **

**Disclaimer:**** I don't claim to own anything associated with the Twilight Saga. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just love her characters, that's all.**

**CHAPTER Two****- Serial Killers and Maple Syrup **

**Lizzie POV**

"_A falling star  
Least I fall alone.  
I can't explain what you can't explain.  
You're finding things that you didn't know"_

_--The All American Rejects, It Ends Tonight_

I skipped home, glad that it was the weekend. My back pack was heavy and it bounced around with every step I took, crashing into my back and making me lurch a little with every step. Exams were coming up and I, being the nerd that I am, took home almost every single book in my locker so that I could study.

My eyes were trained on my sneakers as they shuffled along, and I felt the first few drops of icy cold rain splatter on my neck. I broke into a run, not wanting to be caught in the rain when I didn't have a jacket to protect me from it. Stopping at the apartment next to mine in the dirty old stairwell, I rang the bell at the baby-sitter's door. The little old lady opened it and smiled widely at me. "Oh hello dearie! Your sister is such a precious little thing! You know, she was asking for you all day," she gushed happily, shuffling into the apartment and beckoning for me to join her.

My face fell. I felt so guilty for leaving her alone in a day-care all day long. If I didn't have to go to school, I would spend my every waking moment with little Natalie. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Jackson. Where is she now?"

"Oh, she's inside, playing with little Ashton. They're the two most adorable babies I have ever seen!" She invited me inside and bustled over to the kitchen, no doubt preparing a little doggy bag full of cookies.

I stepped into the familiar living room, lace and ribbons covering almost every surface and I saw the top of Natalie's head bobbing behind the couch. I smiled when I heard a quiet, high-pitched giggle and I joined her in her little game of hide-and-seek.

"Come out; come out, wherever you are!" I called exasperatedly after a few minutes of pretending to look for her.

Natalie jumped out from behind the couch and I tried my best to seem shocked.

"Oh my goodness, Natalie! You gave me such a fright!" I said, gasping with a hand placed over my heart. "Come here and give your sister a hug!"

She tinkled laugh and ran toward me, smacking a big wet kiss on my cheek and wrapping her plump arms around my neck.

"We gonna go to Mah-tin today?" she asked me. She loved Martin almost as much as I did and looked up to him with admiration only a two-year-old could manage. Martin and I pretended we were her parents most of the time and Natalie delighted in our game as we pampered her with kisses and sweets.

"Yes we are! And you can choose our movie again." I sait into her soft brown curls which tickled my face and smelled like baby shampoo.

I picked her up and slung her playfully over my shoulder as Mrs. Jackson waddled back out of the kitchen, carrying a brown paper bag.

"Thank you Mrs. Jackson. See you on Monday!" I told her as she handed me the paper bag.

"Yes, yes. See you on Monday Natalie! Give old Mrs. Jackson a kiss." Natalie obliged happily and smacked another wet one on Mrs. Jackson's saggy cheek.

I stepped out of the apartment, closing Mrs. Jackson's door behind me and taking two steps to reach my door. Jimmying the key a little in the lock, I managed to open our door and step inside to the usual putrid smell of stale vomit that had permanently sunk into the fibres of the carpet. I started unpacking my bag before going upstairs to check on my father. He was lying in a mess of blankets on his bed, the shadow of stubble on his cheeks. His floppy brown hair was thinning in some places and too long in others. It gave him a slightly clown-like appearance, but it wasn't funny at all. His fingers were curled possessively around the neck of an empty beer bottle and his ashy lips twitched every once in a while. He was obviously asleep so I quietly closed the door behind me as I left the room.

I tip-toed down the carpeted stairs in an effort not to wake him up. Opening the refrigerator, I grabbed a tub of applesauce and a spoon for Natalie. I also put a few cookies from the doggie bag onto a plate along with a glass of milk. Balancing these on my arm, I carefully made my way to the kitchen table where Natalie was already sitting expectantly. Thank goodness that I wasn't clumsy. My mother used to tell me how much I moved like a ballerina. I guessed I had swimming to thank for that. My limbs always moved as though they were propelling me through water instead of through air. The result was very graceful and relaxed movements. People at school used to call me the "stoner" before some _genius _invented "nemo". I watched Natalie dig into her goo I started to do my homework. Better get it done now so that I don't have to worry about it during the weekend. I could use the time to study in stead of doing stupid essays and compositions.

I get pretty good grades. The teachers at school all love me and they keep asking me which college I want to attend. I always made something up to shut them up. If I tell them the truth about wanting to start a garage, they would cluck on about it for absolute _hours_, asking why and telling me off for being _ungrateful for my gifts_. I was, if anything, the opposite of ungrateful. I loved my ability to zoom through my work quickly and still get perfect grades. I loved the fact that I could read something once and remember it for the longest time. I loved how my mind seemed like a giant empty book in which I could write almost anything and it would stay there in its pages, waiting for me to flip back to it. I just loved my freedom more. Actually, considering that I had no freedom, I loved the _idea_ of freedom more.

As I ploughed through a series of maths problems, I felt a shuddering cramp in my abdomen. Oh great. Getting your period on a weekend was the worst form of luck I could think of right now. I sighed and winced my way to the bathroom, popping a painkiller into my mouth as I went. The first time I had gotten my period; my mother was off doing one of her crazy stunts under the influence of her schizophrenia. I literally thought I was dying until I told Martin about it, who promptly turned bright red in the face and told me I'd better talk to his mother about that. Martin's mother was a lovely woman. She was short and plump with frizzy chocolate hair and big, dark eyes. My favourite part about her is that she spoke her mind all the time. You could never feel awkward around her because of this, and she always had something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Friday nights were the best nights of the whole week because I actually felt _wanted_. Apart from Natalie, I had no real family connections with anyone.

I stopped by the laundry room to grab a clean pair of panties before going to the bathroom and turning on the shower. The pain killer hadn't started to work yet, and the cramps were so bad that my body was twitching a little as they came and went. I scrubbed myself clean and stepped out to riffle through my drawers. Another cramp came and caused me to screw up my face in pain, but they were already getting a lot less powerful. Finally, I found the short cotton stick I was looking for and washed my hands.

The towel was still slightly damp from yesterday, but I used it anyway. I didn't have the time to get a clean one. It was almost twenty past six and it would take me more than half an hour to get to Martin's place. I rushed upstairs and pulled on a random pair of pants and a tee shirt. Ripping a brush through my hair and pulling on a pair of socks, I ran back downstairs to collect Natalie.

Natalie had fallen asleep on the couch and I gently scooped her up into my arms. She stirred and moaned a little in her sleep but she slept. I smiled tenderly down at her smooth little face. "Natalie," I said quietly, "wakey-wakey. We're going to Martin's, remember?"

She smiled groggily back up at me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I pulled on my dad's long brown trench coat and wrapped it around us both to protect us from the chilly night air as I stepped onto the streets of Seattle. The sidewalks were already slick with ice as the temperature dropped along with the sun on the horizon. I could already see the moon coming up on the other side.

February in Seattle was one of the dreariest months of the year, especially when it was raining. As if the heavens were listening to my thoughts, a few drops clattered onto the sidewalk. Wonderful.

Huffing grumpily, I hitched Natalie higher on my chest and wrapped us tightly in my oversized trench coat, speeding up my step as I continued on to Martin's house with my head bowed against the battering raindrops which quickly turned to slushy snow.

I was thoroughly soaked when I reached the familiar flaky green door and banged down the knocker that was hilariously shaped like a toilet seat. I didn't have to wait long before my best friend threw the door open and gave me a huge hug. Natalie, who had been protected from the elements by my jacket, squealed shrilly and wrapped her arms around tightly around his neck. He laughed and swung her around in a circle over his head, making her squeal even louder. I laughed too and stepped into the bright little apartment. Delicious smells were wafting from the kitchen and I saw the dumpy outline of his mother's body through the steam and immediately, I felt at home for the first time all week.

"How are you?" Martin asked me happily.

I rolled my eyes at him and teased, "You've only just seen me in school! Nothing much could have changed, could it?"

His expression darkened. "Well, I just read the newspaper. There's a serial killer loose in Seattle."

I gasped. "What?! How many people have died?! Where is he now? What's he--"

Martin interrupted me, "Hold your horses!" he cried, waving his hands around wildly like a windmill. "One question at a time! And this is the worst case of killings in, like, ever. He seems to be uncatchable and he left no fingerprints or anything. This guy must really know what he's doing."

My hands shook. "Oh, God! What are we going to do? We're not safe anymore… We've got to do something! What about Natalie?" I blabbered quickly, beads of sweat forming at my temples.

"I know, I'm scared shitless too…" Martin sighed, "There's not really much we can do, though. The police are already doing all they can and lots of forensic scientists are being called in from all over the country. If they can't catch him, nobody can."

I ran at him and hugged him with all my might. "I don't think I'd be able to survive if something happened to you or Natalie or your mother…"

He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back. "Neither could I…"

Martin and I tried our best to act like nothing was wrong, for Natalie's sake. She took no notice at our discomfort and chattered happily all the way through dinner. Afterwards, she led us to the living room and started flipping through Martin's massive DVD collection. She finally poked her chubby little finger at one.

"Dat one," she said regally. I shoved the DVD into the player without even looking at it. I smiled. She had chosen Ice Age which was an all-time favourite of mine.

Martin and I settled onto the couch and Natalie curled up between us like a cat and stuck her thumb in her mouth. I cuddled up to her when the movie started playing.

I didn't remember falling asleep, all I know is that when I woke up, I was still lying on the couch and it was light outside. I groped around groggily, looking for Natalie. When I discovered she wasn't next to me anymore, I gasped and fought down the panic that was starting to wash over me. I remembered the nightmare I was having last night; Natalie was being ripped to shreds by the Dracula in the graffiti painting Martin and I did together while I could only watch and scream, because my limbs were missing. My chest constricted and I couldn't breathe.

I stormed over to Martins room and the panic instantly faded away. There she was; lying spread-eagled on Martin's bed, with his arm around her. I smiled and walked quietly over to join them. I fell back to sleep under his covers, one hand resting lightly on Natalie's arm and the other lying alongside Martin's face.

I awoke again to the smell of pancakes and syrup. Natalie and Martin had already gotten up and I could hear them giggling together somewhere in the apartment. I sat up and stretched like a cat. Yawning hugely, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go home for a change of clothes before Martin and I could go finish off our 'artwork'.

Still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I shuffled into the living room where Martin and Natalie were playfully tussling around on the floor. Martin noticed me and grinned as he tickled a squirming Natalie. His mother bustled in with three plates of pancakes, spread heavily with maple syrup. I smiled at her and got up to help her in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mrs. Barnwell!" I said brightly, "Sorry about falling asleep last night. I was meaning to catch a taxi home."

"Oh, my dearest girl, don't worry about it! It was my pleasure. And anyway, there's a serial killer on the loose out there. There was no way I would have let you go outside onto the streets at night!"

"Thanks Mrs. B" I said gratefully as I filled two glasses with orange juice and a plastic cup with milk for my baby sister. She answered me by patting my locks and smiling before she went into the living room to tell Martin and Natalie that breakfast was ready.

We all tucked in and finished quickly. Wiping a bead of golden syrup off Natalie's chin, Martin said, "So, Liz. What about our 'artwork', then?" when his mother had left the room.

"Maybe tomorrow. There are some things I have to take care of at home and I can't leave Natalie behind here all day. Your poor mum already had to take care of us both this morning because I fell asleep."

His face fell. "Aw, I'm sure my mum won't mind. She loves Natalie."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose myself… Your mother already does so much for us."

"I'm positive." Martin replied with an edge of finality in his tone. "I'll just go ask her now."

"Okay," I whispered, not at all sure if I wasn't asking too much.


End file.
